


Every Great Story Seems to Begin With a Snake

by newtporn



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, I had to improvise with last names though but I tried to be creative, I know that Newt and Gally didn't canonically get along but they do in my story, M/M, Minho and Newt and Thomas and Harriet and Winston and Gally are Quidditch players yo, Mr. Jorge as Mr. Filch, No Beta, OH and Newt and Sonya are twins, Professor (Ava) Paige as Professor Mcgonagall, Professor Janson (RatMan) as Professor Snape, Quidditch, Slytherins and Gryffindors really hate each other, Thomas and Minho are best buds, also Alby is slightly older than everyone else, also one more real quick thing, but I've sorted literally each and every book character into a house, but they do have a reason and it's important for the plot so I'm (hopefully) excused, minewt, okay now I'm just blabbering that's enough tags for a story, pay attention and you'll find everyone's name mentioned, there are some characters I've made up, umm obviously there's gonna be romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-20 03:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4771577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtporn/pseuds/newtporn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He had, they said, tasted in succession all the apples of the tree of knowledge, and, whether from hunger or disgust, had ended by tasting the forbidden fruit.” ― Victor Hugo</p><p>- Minewt Hogwarts au -</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The summary might be confusing, so I've decided to explain it in the notes at the end of the story. This is my first real attempt to write a multi-chaptered story; hopefully I'll succeed to keep up with the updating pace I'll set (probably twice a week, or something? Will see)
> 
> I'm not sure whether this fanfiction will make sense for people who're not acquainted to at least one book/movie from the Harry Potter series. 
> 
> All the observed mistakes are mine, I hope they're not too distracting.
> 
> -Meli :)

**Prologue.**

All was going pretty smooth so far. A girl named Teresa Agnes was the first Gryffindor, shortly followed by someone called Harriet Joseph. Zart Brophy and Siggy Jeffries headed off to Hufflepuff, much to everyone’s amusement, since they’d both been boasting about packing their things and getting back home by feet if they end up in the house they eventually did. Ravenclaw welcomed Jeff Glen, Brenda Howarth, Aris Jones, and Clint Keegan, coming off as the house with most newcomers yet.

Drizzling rain shattered from above, not a single drop making it to the ground. It looked quite fascinating, giving Newt a strange sense of power, because there’s rain – the tameless force of nature, yet it could never reach him despite all its infinite might. The Great Hall looked bright as ever, as if the ceiling wasn’t being savaged by lightning; and frankly, people inside didn’t seem to care much either. All eyes were glued to the lanky blond boy, grasping the stool under himself so hard, his knuckles went white, whereas Newt himself didn’t tear his gaze from the sham sky that would have been starry if it wasn’t for the storm.

That, until an old wizard’s hat with its brim way too large even for an adult, was drooped on top of his head carelessly, covering his eyes and a part of his nose. Newt only managed to cast one last terrified glance at his sister and the Asian boy shuffling nervously next to her, before suddenly sinking into darkness.

 _There it is,_ the boy mused, drinking in his own bitterness; _I look like a complete moron on my first day in Hogwarts._

“How interesting,” a tiny voice crunched terrifyingly close to him, and Newt almost jumped, startled. “You’re quite special, aren’t you?”

Newt mentally scoffed. _This hat probably says that to every other kid,_ he thought, and froze when a barely audible “wrong” sounded in his ear.

“You sure do love mistaking your bravery for weakness, little Sir,” the hat continued, seemingly not noticing that the words didn’t make sense to the blonde. “I see a lot of challenge in you. How truthfully interesting -- _daring_ I may say, oh indeed -- not a bad mind you got there, too.”

Newt rolled his eyes, gesture hidden from audience by the hat covering his eyes.

“Yes, I can clearly see it -- you don’t realize how smart you are, do you?” To his surprise the hat let out a chuckle, if a low rumbling sound could count as one. “Your wit stands out -- this, I like, yes -- you’re witty but at the same time you’re too kind to go hard on people you know you can destroy with only carefully chosen words -- how very interesting, however, you Sir -- you’re too kind for your own good…”

 _Yea, I know that. Quit wasting time._ Newt couldn’t help getting annoyed, his impatient nature giving. It was also the pressure of knowing over a hundred pairs of eyes were staring at him, probably as irritated as ever for the amount of time this takes. The hat couldn’t possibly make everyone wait this long for an answer; usually the sorting would take a minute, top.

“Oh.” The light touch of the hat’s weight tightened slightly around his forehead, and if that didn’t sound ridiculous, Newt would have thought the hat was frowning.

His imagination already started building up the image of Professor Paige jerking the hat away from him, telling him to get out of here, that all has been a mistake and the sorting hat stayed silent for so long because Newt didn’t fit in to any house.

To his horror, Newt realized he’s failing without even doing anything, at his very first day, in front of the people he’s going to spend years studying with.  

 _No,_ he suddenly thought, aware that the hat could hear. _It’s not my fault. It’s the hat. It’s the hat’s fault. Why won’t it do its buggin’ job for…_

“SLYTHERIN!” the dull yell vibrated through his eardrums and Newt’s heart immediately jolted in delight. He hadn’t failed. He did it.

The hat was being removed from his head straight after, and the boy had to squint, defending himself from the overwhelming flow of brightness that seemed to have grown in saturation from the last time he saw it. This made him wonder how long he had been wearing the hat.

The thought was vaporized in an instant when cheers and whistles exploded from the right corner of the hall and Newt locked his eyes with his sister’s and then Minho’s, grinning. Both kids were waving at him frantically, eyes gleaming with joy for their friend. Newt couldn’t help but feel warm at the fact of having someone care about him this much.

It was surprising, since he’d only met the Asian in the train. He liked the guy immediately, which was rare, seeing as Newt was picky when it came to choosing his company. He’d learnt that Minho’s parents were muggles, and found pride in using the word “pureblood” to describe himself. He’d secretly hoped that he and Minho would be in the same house, because they seemed to get along pretty well and Newt wasn’t sure he’d make any good friends in school at all, so he intended to grasp to the Asian’s presence tightly.

By the time he made it to the table, he got patted on the back several times and a few voices called his name from too many different directions to pay attention to them all. His new house seemed rather excited to have their first Greenie, and at last, Newt didn’t mind the attention.  

Someone rather tall and cold pulled Newt into a hug, and the blonde had to gasp for air by the time he was released. A boy with skin the color of Swiss dark chocolate, and eyes a shade or two deeper, towered over him, a goofy smile across the face. Dense black Afro hair made him look less intimidating than he could have appeared, and whilst Newt was busy staring, the boy offered him a handshake. 

“Rahman. Rahman, Alby." It took Newt a moment to realize that’s the boy’s name.

“Isaac Newton. Newt for short,” he said back, looking at Alby, while he shook a few more hands stretched out in his direction. The boy looked about Newt’s age so Newt assumed he couldn’t’ve been too old. Probably a year or two above him.

“Welcome to Slytherin!” someone said from across the table as the blonde settled.

Newt would’ve thought a few names flew by whilst he was being greeted, but then, he realized that his twin sister should come right after him, seeing as they have the same surname that almost always got them adjacent to each other in alphabetic lists.

Sonya was set atop the stool, holding her back straight and strained gracefully as they’ve always been taught at home. The hat, of course, covered almost her entire face, shuffling around, as if the movements made its pondering easier. It’s been a while now. Confusing the sorting hat probably runs in their blood, the boy guessed, smiling amusedly at the funny thought, when the voice called out a loud “SLYTHERIN!”.

Newt was immediately on his feet, clapping and cheering perhaps a little too loud for all he cares. He would never admit, but the boy was actually quite relieved to have his sister by his side, at the same house. They haven’t really been apart… ever, and weren’t exactly planning for that to happen anytime soon.

Sonya hugged her elder twin tightly and slid on a seat next to him. They distantly heard someone named Chuck Odonnel being sorted to Hufflepuff, whilst Newt introduced Sonya to Alby. The next name made him still and stop talking.

“Park, Minho,” Professor Paige announced hastily, eager to get to the end of her long list.

The tall figure looked absolutely unfazed, as it climbed on top of the stool. Funnily, the hat almost fit Minho, oversizing his head only a tiny bit. Narrow black eyes were scanning the room rapidly, searching for familiar faces, but after a while they gave up, heaving shut. Newt wondered what the hat whispered into Minho’s ear, hoping it had anything to do with Slytherin.

Slytherin. Please, please, please, Slytherin.

Every nerve in Newt’s body throbbed in anticipation. In a perfect fairy tale his friend would undoubtedly end up next to him and his sister, and they’d get to hang out in the Slytherin Common Room every evening, doing homework and discussing the latest edition of “The Daily Prophet”.

Life, unfortunately, is not a fairy tale. It took one sharp yell of the word “GRYFFINDOR!” for Newt to realize that. Nonetheless, he gave Minho a thumbs-up, when the brunet found his gaze and grinned happily, waving.

The newfound Slytherin couldn’t help but feel a bit frustrated, blaming fate for being so unfair on him; but the bitterness was soon forgotten, when he found himself nodding through a story Alby was telling, about how Peeves (a poltergeist, wandering around the castle and causing as much harm as he could muster, Newt gathered) once pulled the hem of Madam Pomfrey’s skirt all the way up, and how he still sees the sight in his nightmares.

In the meanwhile a few kids got sorted here and there, Winston Taggart and Gally Tanner joining the Slytherin house, and ending up getting involved in Newt’s and Alby’s conversation.  

Ben Tomlinson made his way to the Hufflepuff table, and the last kid plodded towards the stool, before his name was even announced.

“Woodcock, Thomas.”

Newt almost chocked on air, and Gally rushed to pat his back several times, not considering his strength, and causing even more strangling sounds to escape Newt’s throat. “Wood-cock?” he managed between the wild laughter and throttling, while wrapping a hand around his neck.

“That’s one hell of a last name,” Winston sniggered, as they followed Thomas’s route to the Gryffindor table with their eyes.

* * *

“Dude, this is _awesome,_ ” Thomas Woodcock said in the opposite side of the room, looking around himself in pure awe. “My grandad was a Gryffindor, mum’s gonna be over the moon!”

“That’s so cool,” Minho managed, while stuffing pork into his mouth.

“Dude, yeah. We’re lucky to have gotten here, y’know.”

The Asian’s head jerked up, with a tiny piece of meat dropping to the table from his lips. “Why’s that?” he asked curiously. To Thomas’s suspicious glare, he replied with a shrug and a single phrase explaining and excusing all nescience. “Muggleborn.”

“Oh,” Thomas swallowed his food, drinking a couple gulps of juice over it. “I duno exactly. They say Hufflepuffs are dumb. Ravenclaws are boring. Slytherins are evil. That makes Gryffindor pretty much the best choice of ‘em.”

Minho stared, then opened his mouth to say something, but wasn’t given the chance to do so. In an instant there was a neatly manicured hand smacking Thomas’s nape so hard he almost face planted on his plate full of ketchup.

“That’s nonsense.” The icy voice, cutting off Thomas’s yelp of pain, belonged to a girl with eyes so blue you’d think it’s a separate little galaxy, consisting of one huge sea of pure-azure. Her silky black hair weaved down to her waist. Minho noticed that her smile was sympathetic.

“Shut up, Teresa,” Thomas called, regaining his composure.

“Excuse this ignorant little idiot here. I’m Teresa. And what he said are just stupid stereotypes people love to believe for no good reason. I see you come from a family of muggles.” To Minho’s great delight there was no judgement in her voice. “Don’t let mongs like this fool you with false information.” She glanced at Thomas with a tiny smile, before adding “He’s nice, really. Just rarely dumb, that is.”

“Do us all a favor and shut your…” Thomas groaned when another hard smack landed on the back of his neck, but managed to hold his head from jerking forward this time.

If Minho hadn’t already learnt that Thomas was the only child in Woodcock’s family, he’d think that these two were siblings, cause they sure as hell acted like ones.

He’d only later learn that they grew up together, since their families were ridiculously close, to the point where they ended up buying houses in the same block to be able to visit one another daily. Interacting with Teresa was his retribution, Thomas assured, although it wasn’t a secret for anyone that he stealthily did love his almost-sister. 

The powerful sound of someone’s laughter thundered from above and Minho reflexively shot his head up to look. His eyes went wide and a twinkle of curiosity rather than fear glimmered in the dark pupils.

“Is –is that a ghost?” he asked warily, watching a tall, greyish-transparent figure floating gracefully above their heads.

The figure must have realized that it’s been noticed, because in a minute it was facing Minho and Thomas, darting eyes from one boy to another. “Allow me to make our acquaintance, gentlemen,” it barely looked a few years over seventeen “Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington. The Gryffindor house ghost. Welcome to our modest company.”

Thomas went rigid. “I’ve heard about you!” he suddenly exclaimed. “You’re Half-Man Nick!”

The ghost wrinkled its nose, mumbling something about preferring to be called Sir Nicholas and combed a hand through the messy hair that must have been blonde at some point but now looked a boring shade of grey.

Someone from across the table echoed “Half-Man? What’s that s’posed to mean?”  

“You see,” Nick grabbed his hips and flung himself forward, leaving a pair of legs floating on their own, whilst his body detached. “Headmaster Dipper warned me about that elevator. Yet I still got my friends to descend me into the lift shaft. Whatever was inside didn’t seem very happy about the intrusion. It slit me in half.”

After staring at the kids’ terrified expressions for a while, Nick probably got bored and excused himself to fly away, somehow gluing his torso back to his feet.

“That’s one funny fella,” Thomas grunted, looking over at Minho. “What’s fazing you?” He asked, noticing the expression on the other boy’s face.  

A moment of hesitation followed.

“What do they say about Gryffindor?” Minho suddenly opted to ask the question that had been spinning in his mind since Thomas mentioned what Teresa labeled as 'house stereotypes'.  

“Nothing.” Teresa shot him an estimating glance, rejoining the conversation. “Our house is great. And so is Hufflepuff, they’re actually a great company, by the way. Same goes about Ravenclaws, a friend of mine got sorted there tonight, and she’s the best person you’ll ever meet.”

A short pause followed, and Minho realized that Teresa wasn’t going to continue.

“What about Slytherins?” he prompted, curious as any other muggleborn in this whole new world.

The girl exchanged a short wary eye-contact with Thomas.

“Yeah,” she mumbled absently, staring at her plate. “Slytherins are evil.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It's never the differences between people that surprise us. It's the things that, against all odds, we have in common.”  
> ― Jodi Picoult

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANNOUNCEMENT: I need to create some minor characters for the next chapter, and even though I've already come up with the names, I thought why not get my lovely readers involved?? If you want your name (perhaps your friend's or just a random name you'll think of) to be in this story, don't hesitate to leave it in the comments! I'll try to include all (you'll end up either in Gryffindor or in Slytherin, no Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw just yet, I'm very sorry)
> 
> no betaaa sorry for all the mistakes 
> 
> and still no proper updating schedule. I'll try to upload once or twice a week, whenever I manage
> 
> so I kind of just decided that all the summaries in this story are going to be some relevant quotes (that get explained in the end notes in case of seeming confusing) 
> 
> -Meli :)

**Part 1.**

Five summers had passed at the speed of a bullet since the moment of sorting. It happened faster than one would’ve expected, memories the only proof that these years had actually occurred at some point. The eleven years-old kid that once entered Hogwarts full of ambitions and dreams, has turned into an outright man with his own ideology and beliefs.

Newt had blossomed. His lanky figure molded into a lean, muscled one, with sharply outlined biceps and an Adam’s apple. His hair lost its pure blond hue; the sandy serenity intruded by some dirty-colored strands. The smooth skin wasn’t pale anymore, a golden shade of tan adorning his masculine features. The boy’s face, out of everything, didn’t change much, just having gained more matureness. His frown was deeper than before, the result of taking in the harshness of real world sooner than he was supposed to. The voice, that used to be high-pitched and loud, turned into a deep crackling tenor with an intent accent.

Newt stared at his reflection in the glass, not quite realizing how much he changed since first grade. He never paid attention and wasn’t doing it now, eyes seeing through his gauzy form in the window, and taking in the beauty of nature.

A deep shade of maroon adorned the shiny green of trees. The smell of rain and autumn soared in the atmosphere, air having reached that perfect degree of chill to leave prickly touches on bare skin.

Vast forests of England looked charming as ever, swaying back and forth under the pressure of winds, humming along with their dance as the leaves crumbled. First groups of birds could be spotted in the sky, elaborating their flying patterns in order to head south. The weather seemed to reveal its indecisive side, still maintaining the summer heat but subtly allowing the autumn coolness to kick in.

The distant horn of train emitted a bleach cloud of steam into air. Roaring, the engine moved faster, leaving a long trail of railways behind. The words _“Hogwarts Express”_ shone a spotless scarlet along the width of this huge machine.

Newt smiled a content smile at the scenery before him, listening to the conversation in his compartment only with one ear.

“I don’t even know, man.” It was Alby’s voice speaking. He scratched his nape absently, running the hand over his bald head before bringing it down.

It was his last year in school, unlike the group of 6th years sitting around him, and the boy was having a hard time trying to decide what he’s going to do with his life after graduation. He was thinking to maybe join the Ministry of Magic as a trainee in the Department of Intoxicating Substances, since potions have always been his passion. His second aunt from his dad’s side, Artemisia Rahman, had offered him a place there with a promise of promotion.

“I liked your hair better with the Afro,” Gally remarked, in order to subtly change the topic of the conversation since their elder friend seemed rather uncomfortable with it.

It’s become a tradition ever since forever, really. The little clique consisting of Alby, Newt, Sonya, Gally, and Winston gathered in the twins’ compartment on their way to the castle every year.

“Yeah, well, I liked your face better without those holes on it,” Alby snapped, referring to the eyebrow and lip piercings Gally got during summer for the occasion of turning 16.

Gally shrugged, arching both pierced eyebrows. “Touché. Girls like it”

“I confirm,” Sonya, the only girl of the company, raised a hand.

Winston glared at her. “Really? What’s attractive about… this?” he gestured at the ring on Gally’s lips.

“It’s hot,” the girl admitted easily.

“Since when do you care about what girls think anyway?” Newt noticed, choosing this moment to stop staring out of the window. He glanced sideways at a very flustered Gally whose face managed to change sixty shades of crimson.

It looked rather amusing.

“For the last time, I'm not-“

Before he had the chance to revolt, the door of their compartment flew open and then shut again. After a very confusing moment, the company saw a panting boy, bent in half across from their beds.

“I’m… I- oh, Jesus Christ, I’m sorry,” the boy barked, seemingly attempting to stop his flow of giggles.

He then looked up, probably to see where he ended up breaking into, and stiffened immediately.

“Oh. Sorry,” he said again, demonstratively fixing his Gryffindor scarf. “Thomas and Tere… My friends, I mean, were chasing me down the corridor. I was desperate for a hiding place.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Alby eyed the Gryffindor lion on the boy’s chest, before looking up at his face disapprovingly, and adding a mocking “...Gryffindor.” as if that was the boy’s name.

The intruder’s mouth gaped a tiny bit, a wapish remark ready to come out, but then he thought better of it, and turned his back to leave. The door was halfway open when a low voice from behind grumbled loud enough to be heard “What are they? 5?”

The door flew shut immediately with a loud bang.

“Newton.” The boy called from his spot, crossing hands on chest. “Too coward to say whatcha got to my face, are ya?”

Silence hung. Newt stared, and if it was anyone but Minho standing in front of him, they would've shrunk under the weight of the intent look. But it was not anyone. It was Minho.

“Leave,” Sonya warned, her voice low as if hoping only the Asian would hear it (everyone seemed to hear it except him). 

“You think you’re the only brave one here, Park?” Newt was on his feet now. Voice dropped a tone or perhaps two, clearly a bad sign. The air filled with uncomfortably pressuring stiffness.

Minho, though, the complete opposite of the blonde, shrugged carelessly, not even looking bothered. “Seeing as I’m the only Gryffindor in this room full of snakes. Yeah, pretty much." 

“Watch that rotten tongue of yours, _mudblood.”_ Newt stuck a finger to Minho’s chest, causing the other boy to flinch. “The snakes can bite if ya faze them.”

Minho narrowed his thin eyes, as if trying to read whether that was a threat. He squeezed Newt’s wrist in one sharp movement, pressing the finger to his chest further, hard enough to cause Newt pain.

“I can break your hand,” he said, voice so calm, you wouldn’t catch a tingle of nervousness, but it was clear the nasty nickname stung him.

“I fucking dare you, Park.” Newt’s voice in contrary was nothing above a whisper, eyes gleaming with something inexplicably more than hatred.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Alby butted in, pulling Newt away without struggle since Minho released him almost immediately. “Get out of here, Gryffindor,” he snapped, looking serious as ever. Without the curly black hair his face looked rather hardcore.  “Now.”

Minho didn’t need repeating; the door was slammed behind his figure in less than a minute, irritation readable in every motion.

Newt reached out for the handle as well, but Ably’s hand stopped him.

“What’re you doing?!” his voice almost sounded accusing.

“Going out.”

“After him.” It wasn’t a question.

“I won't get in trouble.” With that, Newt shook his hand free and rushed out, tripping over his own feet.

He pretended not to hear Alby telling the others to leave him go because that Gryffindor deserved to be taught a good lesson and Newt's too smart to do anything stupid anyway.

His eyes scanned the corridor swiftly, spotting the black-haired figure leaned against a random compartment door. He wanted to call out the name, but thought better of it, finding it too risky. Instead, he just walked towards the figure and as it noticed him approaching, it moved, crossing to another wagon.

Newt followed silently, not really minding getting further away from his compartment (or maybe just not showing that he minded). He kept his distance from the figure, assured that it knows he's following anyway. The two of them didn't come to a halt until they reached the caboose. 

“Minho,” he sighed as he stood in front of the boy. “I’m sorry”

“Why?” the hint of a smile faded on Minho's face. 

“Because… you know why. I called you _mudblood._ Shouln’t’ve gone that far.”

“You didn’t mean it. And besides, I'm the one who started it. We gotta be safe, you know it. Must have them thinking we full on detest each other." 

“I didn’t mean it,” Newt confirmed. “I swear, I’m not like that... They’re not like that, too. They don’t care about your heritage.”

Minho scoffed at that.

“I’m serious, Min. The only problem's that you’re…” the blonde trailed off, gaze dropping to Minho’s scarlet scarf with golden stripes on it.

“I know,” Minho sighed, quickly glancing around to make sure no one’s in sight, before reaching out and fixing Newt’s own scarf, folding the symbolic snake away, unable to stand the image of it. “You’d suit red much better,” he mumbled, leaving the painfully green scarf alone.

“I can’t stand this,” Newt confessed, looking down. “Why do I have to pretend that I hate you?”

It was Minho’s turn to sigh, reaching a hand out to cradle Newt's face, but Newt shook it away, afraid to be caught.

“Because you’re a serpent. And I’m a lion.”

“Why does that matter?” Minho tried to ignore the flickering shine in Newt’s eyes, the one that people usually get when they're holding back tears. 

“You know the story. Over a thousand years ago Godric Gryffindor found a secret chamber that Salazar Slytherin had created to preserve evil in order to get rid of the muggle-born students. And things went down the hill." 

Newt knew that, indeed. He’d heard about it at least a hundred times, knew that the two wizards ended up hurting each other, but he didn’t get how that still mattered after so many years.

“But I don’t hate you,” he tried weakly. There was more to say, but he bit his tongue.

“I don’t hate you, too.” What a twisted way of admitting they need each other, however. 

Newt couldn’t help recalling the first time they found out they weren’t supposed to get along. They’d literally been jerked away from each other at the entrance to the Great Hall by very indignant prefects, and Newt had the ‘we-don’t-mix-with-Gryffindors-cause-they-think-they’re-better-than-us’ talk. He'd later learnt that Minho’s had something along the lines of ‘Slytherins-are-evil-don’t-you-dare-to-approach-them-are-you-out-of-your-mind’ lectured to him for two and a half hours.

“They can’t just force us apart, can they?” Newt would have laughed at his own words if he could. That’s exactly what they’ve done for the past six years. “Don’t answer that.”

“You know I care about you, right?” Minho asked, and to his disappointment Newt got the hint that this conversation’s coming to its end.

“Yeah.”

Minho smiled, placed a chaste kiss on Newt’s forehead, rushing him to go back to his friends before anyone saw them together.

Newt did.

He didn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I'm sorry for skipping time, but the main story is supposed to happen in their 6th year (so they're both legal lmao. In case you didn't realize, they're 16 years old) so that's why I put the sorting as "prologue"
> 
> Also I'm aware that the house-rivalry is overly exaggerated, but it's all for the sake of the plot. I hope you lot don't mind the minor changes in Hogwarts history :) 
> 
> and then, the summary-quote. I think this one's pretty much clear: Newt and Minho are obviously very different, each worthy of being apart of their house. Yet still, there's got to be something that keeps them together. Something that overpowers all their differences.

**Author's Note:**

> To explain the somewhat weird summary, I'll have to take a few moments of your time, and connect some dots. I've never been a religious person, (in fact, I'm an apatheist) but the quote seemed to suit the story perfectly. Seeing as one of the protagonists is a snake - a Slytherin and the other one is a Gryffindor, their bond could be seen as the forbidden fruit. The two houses have a history of rivalry that leads to straight forward hatred in my story, and there's no way in hell the two boys would find piece in loving one another. Their house-mates will always be breathing into their backs, judging and shaming Minho for loving a snake, and Newt for loving a lion. Yet here they are, wallowing in the sweetness of their forbidden fruit.


End file.
